


We All Know that Something is Eternal

by enigma731



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Afterlife, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Peter Quill Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Soul Gem (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigma731/pseuds/enigma731
Summary: “I’m dead,” says Peter, finally.“Yes,” says Gamora, her tone light, like they might be discussing the weather. “For now.”He clears his throat, nods, not even considering that last part for the moment. “Then why am I in Missouri?”She glances around, realization of some sort dawning on her face. “Oh, is that where this is? I was wondering. These flowers arehuge.”





	We All Know that Something is Eternal

The morning smells of orange blossoms, heavy and sweet. The day is already humid, though dawn’s just barely started, the air settled on Peter’s shoulders like a gentle pair of hands. Somewhere in the distance a bird’s calling softly, the delicate musicality of the cry sending a strange pang of loneliness through him. 

He’s standing in a field of sunflowers that stretch up to the sky, their stalks so tall that he can’t see the horizon. If he was asked, he’d have no idea how he got here, or how long he’s been here, or...anything else, really.

Time has ceased to exist, along with obligation, along with purpose. Perhaps it ought to bother him, but it doesn’t. In fact, all he feels is...nothing at all.

Behind him there’s a rustling sound and Peter turns, seeing movement on the ground. He stoops carefully, searches the grass for a moment before locating the disturbance a few feet away. There’s a lizard, brilliant green and masterfully camouflaged, with the back legs of a tiny frog protruding from its mouth. The frog is still fighting its fate, thrashing as best it can, but losing nonetheless.

“Hey!” says Peter, hand darting out lightning-quick to pick the lizard up by the back of its neck. “Hey, stop it. Stop it!”

He shakes the thing for a few seconds, until it gives up and releases its prey. The frog, he sees now, is mortally wounded, the top of its head crushed in. His stomach twists as he realizes that it’s a lost cause, that what he’s done isn’t mercy after all.

“Peter?”

He’s so surprised that he loses his balance, falls out of his crouch and onto his ass in a pile of leaves. 

When he looks up again, Gamora is standing over him, the golden light of sunrise setting off her silhouette, casting a ring of flame around her hair. His breath catches on a wave of emotion in his throat, overwhelmed with desperate love for her.

“Hey,” he breathes, but the sound comes out as only air.

She takes two steps closer, holds out a hand and hauls him easily back to his feet. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Um.” He keeps ahold of her hand, runs his free one through his hair, which has a couple of leaves clinging to it. “Where?” It hasn’t occurred to him to wonder before, to even think about anything preceding the current moment. 

Gamora arches an eyebrow, a bit incredulous now. “You’re dead.”

“I’m--” Peter swipes at his eyes, because it’s suddenly painful to look at her, the light at her back making his pupils ache. The day’s started to swim around him, and he feels unsteady on his feet. “I’m what?”

“Dead,” she repeats, stabilizing his weight with a hand on his shoulder. “Pull it together, this is not a good time for a breakdown.”

“I’m--” he blurts again, leaning into her hand as his legs go weak. It all comes back to him in a rush: Thanos, the Stones, his blaster, pointed at Gamora’s head. Bubbles. Half the universe, ash. Because of him.

He looks down at the ground beneath his feet, notices for the first time that the soil is tawny copper. He swallows, wills his mind not to go back to Titan again, or to Knowhere. What he wants, what he _needs_ is to be...numb. 

“I’m dead,” he repeats, finally.

“Yes,” says Gamora, her tone light, like they might be discussing the weather. “For now.”

He clears his throat, nods, not even considering that last part for the moment. “Then why am I in Missouri?”

She glances around, realization of some sort dawning on her face. “Oh, is that where this is? I was wondering. These flowers are _huge._ ”

“Yeah,” says Peter, feeling in his gut that it’s true. There’s a subtle familiarity about this place, whispers of previous life on the breeze. But then he looks around, realizes that he isn’t a kid anymore, that the sunflowers ought not to be so tall in comparison to him. That there ought to be some signs of civilization around here….somewhere. “I mean. I think.”

She runs her hand down from his shoulder to his wrist, pausing for a moment with her hand over the place where his pulse ought to be beating, if he was alive. If either of them was alive. Then she slides it down further, lacing their fingers. 

“It’s not real,” she says, her tone almost apologetic. “This is the Missouri in your head. The one you remember.”

“Oh,” says Peter, looking down at their joined hands. He turns them so that hers is palm-up in his, looking at the contrast of their skin, green and golden in the morning light. “I always thought I’d show you this someday. I mean, the real one.”

It strikes him again that all of that is over. Gone. Lost. Possibilities snuffed out, just like that, because he’s dead. 

Peter isn’t used to losing. Maybe in the first round, or the second. Maybe going through plans A through C before finally managing to turn the tables. But he’s not used to _losing_ in the end. He’s never met a situation he couldn’t hustle or beat his way out of eventually, until now. 

For all that Gamora’s _told him_ the horrors of Thanos, he realizes, he’s always believed they’d win. Turns out she was right. Like always.

Abruptly, he steps into her space, pulls her in by the place where their hands are joined, like a lifeline. She’s _dead_ he thinks, the utter devastation slamming into him so hard he nearly falls to his knees. Instead he wraps his arms around her, buries his face in her neck and holds on for all he’s worth. 

She’s dead but she’s _here_ and he’s here, and maybe somehow...things can still be all right, in a way.

“Peter,” says Gamora, running a hand over his back in a big, slow circle. “Peter, I’m sorry, but you aren’t finished. You have to pull it together.”

“What?” He raises his head tentatively, sniffling. “Why?”

“Because,” she says simply, tone almost serene, “I need you. I need you _alive._ ”

“No you don’t,” he insists desperately, almost whining now. “Nobody needs me. I’m the reason we lost.”

“No,” she counters. “You are one of the reasons we’re going to win.”

He knows instinctively what comes next. Knows that he’s about to lose her again, that as much as he trusts her -- and he does, absolutely -- there’s no guarantee that he will ever see her again. 

He does the only thing he can think of in this moment, and kisses her. Her lips are like the sun, warm and exquisite and deadly all at once.

“I love you,” she breathes, leaning back far enough so that she can meet his eyes. “More than anything.” Her eyes are dry this time, her voice firm, full of resignation and something else. Determination, maybe. 

“I love you too,” Peter says quickly, sensing that the moment is shifting, changing, but uncertain how.

Then she steps back, holding out her palm, and suddenly he can see the gem nestled in the middle of it, reflecting -- no, _emanating_ \-- the blinding orange glow that’s been getting stronger around them all morning. 

“No,” he says softly, taking half a step closer but not daring to touch her as he feels the Stone’s power. “No, not yet. Please.”

“It’s time,” says Gamora, and snaps her fingers.


End file.
